


Luststruck Puppy Dog

by capyshota



Series: A Guide to Navigating Your Dead Brother's Voyeurism [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Assisted Masturbation, Ben's POV, Dirty Talk, Incest Kink, M/M, Non-Contact Sexual Encounters, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 06:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capyshota/pseuds/capyshota
Summary: “Y-you… really?” Ben stutters.Klaus is still for a moment, probably expecting something a little more profound. Then he grins.“I really… what?”He leans onto his hands, close enough that Ben would be able to feel his breath against his cheek.“I really want you to fuck me? I really want to choke on your cock? I really want everyone to know how fucking hot I am for you?”Ben bites his lip. “Yeah… that.”Klaus cocks his head to the side. “Then yes, all of the above.”





	Luststruck Puppy Dog

Klaus has been more obnoxious than usual over the past few days, which is saying something.

If Ben were to put a name to it, he’d say he’s gotten  _clingy_. He’s interacting with Ben more frequently than usual and a little flicker of hope inside of him thinks it’s because of what happened the other night. But Ben hasn’t let hope rule his decisions since he’d died, so he tries to suppress the thought.

Regardless, that night has been running through his mind constantly ever since. Everything from the moonlight spread across Klaus’ chest to the way he whimpered as he came is etched into Ben’s mind and isn’t going away any time soon.

And what’s worse is that Klaus knows.  _Of course_  he knows.

As an eternal spectator, Ben often feels as if he’s the one with all the answers. But when it comes to Klaus… Well, his awareness of the world around him is surprisingly acute. Whether that’s a result of mind-altering substances, trauma, or a natural gift, Ben has no idea.

Currently, they’re down in the kitchen. Klaus is cradling an atrocious cocktail of whatever he could find in the liquor cabinet to his chest, and rocking slowly on the balls of his feet. Ben is on the counter, kicking his legs as the mild buzz of Klaus’ drink thrums through his body, mellowing him out.

Klaus turns towards Ben suddenly. “How much do you think our quote unquote  _mothers_  wanted for us?”

Ben frowns. As far as he knows, they’d all been adopted within a month of birth, and none of them had ever gone out of their way to find their birth mothers.

A handful of them had considered it in childhood. After too much sugar and too little sleep, all kinds of lofty ambitions arose. But what could a group of eleven-year-olds under the care of one of the wealthiest assholes on the planet do? Reginald wouldn’t have seen it as anything less than a mutiny.

As curious as Ben is, and as traumatic and depressing as his childhood was, inclusive of literally dying, he’s still thankful for having been adopted into this family. And Klaus is responsible for most of that thankfulness. They were close during his life, doubtlessly closer during his death, and only growing closer, albeit in questionable new ways.

All that aside, Klaus raises an intriguing point.

He gives Ben a careful once over.

“I’m thinking… what, five thousand big ones? Considering the consumer purchasing power in 1989, of course.” He purses his lips. “Depends on whether Cthulhu had crashed the party yet, I guess.”

Klaus steps forward and runs his hand straight through Ben’s middle.

“Because I wouldn’t be very impressed if those babies were crawling their way out of my virgin uterus.”

Klaus takes another moment to think. “…You know what? Make it a thousand. I’d be pretty desperate at that point.”

He starts pacing the kitchen, drink sloshing dangerously.

“Christ, do you think they were all a reasonable age?”

Ben tracks Klaus’ movements with his gaze, opting not to comment.

“I’m not saying Luther is the most likely to have popped out of a seventy-five year old Mormon woman named Esther, but—”

“Who you talking to, Klaus?”

Diego strides into the kitchen, patting his chest and pants like he’s misplaced something.

“Cher,” Klaus answers without missing a beat.

Diego pauses with a hand over his hip. “…Really?”

“No! She’s still alive, you animal!”

“Oh. Well, have you seen one of my knives around? Five inches, stainless steel, dual-edged spear point.”

Klaus gives him a blank stare.

Diego walks over and pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“You took that correctly,” Klaus replies and Diego recoils slightly.

“Jesus, you reek like whiskey.”

“Why, thank you.” Klaus curtsies clumsily. “That would be the whiskey.”

Diego continues past him, sweeping the kitchen for any sign of his knife.

“Well, have a look. And if you see it, give me a shout, okay?”

“Aye aye.”

Klaus shoots him a two-fingered salute and watches him go, swirling his drink around. His eyes linger on the doorway for a moment and he takes a swig of his drink. When he turns back to Ben, there’s a glint in his eyes that isn’t from the alcohol.

“…Hypothetically,” Klaus starts, that single word sparking skepticism, “ _If_  I were to, I don’t know… say, stick a hand down my pants…”

Ben freezes.

“ _Raise the dead_ , if you’ll forgive the euphemism, do you think you’d have any interest in taking part? _Theoretically_ , of course.” Klaus blinks up at him with wide eyes and fluttering lashes.

Ben’s decision is made before he’s really given it any thought.

He clears his throat. “Well… I mean… If that  _were_  to happen, I’m sure I would be happy to help out.”

Klaus hums. “Noted. Here’s to the hypothetical future.”

He holds up his glass in a one-sided _cheers_ before tipping it back and downing what’s left.

Ben watches the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

Klaus slams his glass down on the kitchen table and sighs, pressing his now empty hand to his chest.

“Well, it’s time for the lady to retire to her chambers.”

He wiggles his fingers and gives Ben a look that he’s seen countless times in bars and clubs and alleyways. The people it’s aimed at, almost without fail, follow at his heels like lovestruck puppy dogs. Or… perhaps _luststruck_ is a more appropriate term. In any case, it’s a look that has cropped up more than a few times in Ben’s daydreams, and he makes no claims that he isn’t one of said puppy dogs.

He watches Klaus go, and even though they have an inextricable tie, he tries to wait a few moments before following after him; not that zeal is anything worth trying to hide at this point.

Ben gives himself a quick pep talk on his way up the stairs, most of which sounds like  _Klaus is into some of the weirdest shit you’ve ever heard of; there’s no way you can fuck this up_.

Bouncing up and down had been a great way to expel nervous energy while he was alive, but it doesn’t seem to work as well anymore.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Klaus has already disappeared into his room. He can hear him fiddling with something before music starts to croon from the stereo system in the corner—something heavy and sultry from the 1960’s. It’s quintessentially Klaus.

Ben lingers outside the door for a moment before stepping in.

Klaus is sitting at the head of his bed, head tilted back against the wall and legs crossed. When he notices Ben, he sits upright.

“Benny!” Klaus claps. “How nice of you to join.”

Ben doesn’t comment on the physical impossibility of being anywhere else. Instead, he shrugs and sits himself at the end of Klaus’ bed.

“Thought I’d drop by.”

He and Klaus have a truly unique relationship—something no other pair in the world has—and it’s resulted in a surreal depth of understanding between the two. It’s similar to what Ben thinks twins might feel, but stronger. And it means there are some things that don’t have to be spoken aloud to be understood.

That being said, Klaus quite likes the sound of his own voice.

He shifts onto his knees and leans closer to Ben. “Allow me to beat the fucking bush, Ben.”

“I don’t think that’s how that euphemism works.”

“I want you,” Klaus continues, shutting Ben up. “ _So_  badly,” he laughs, “Every fucking day. Personally, I think some omnipotent being stuck you at my side, so close, but…” Klaus swipes a hand through Ben’s chest, “… _so fucking far_ , as a trial run for a higher form of torture.”

Ben shivers.

“And it’s pretty goddamn effective, if you ask me,” Klaus sighs.

The unbridled elation coursing through Ben at hearing his feelings are reciprocated is blocking out every instance of mourning he might otherwise be feeling at knowing he’ll never being able to touch Klaus.

“Y-you… really?” Ben stutters.

Klaus is still for a moment, probably expecting something a little more profound. Then he grins.

“I really… what?”

He leans onto his hands, close enough that Ben would be able to feel his breath against his cheek.

“I really want you to fuck me? I really want to choke on your cock? I really want everyone to know how fucking hot I am for you?”

Ben bites his lip. “Yeah… that.”

Klaus cocks his head to the side. “Then yes, all of the above.”

There’s a charged moment of silence before Ben breathes, “I want to kiss you so badly.”

Klaus looks down at his lips. “Like I said: torture.” He sits back slowly and plays with the hem of his top. “…But I think we can make do.”

Klaus slides his top over his head and drops it to the floor. He runs one hand across his chest to pinch and twist his nipple, eyelids fluttering shut.

Anyone would be hard-pressed to argue that Klaus doesn’t know how to put on a show. Everything from the tilt of his head to the set of his shoulders is practiced—honed over years to ooze appeal. He looks like a piece of priceless art in the way he sways gently to the music.

“How does it feel?” Ben asks.

He brings his legs up underneath him, turning towards Klaus.

His brother bites his lip and smiles.

“S’good, Benny. How does it look?”

Ben spends a moment really taking in Klaus. By now both nipples are hard and pink and Ben can see the bulge in Klaus’ pants. His face is flushed, but whether that’s from the arousal or the alcohol Ben can’t say.

“Looks… fucking hot.”

Klaus opens his eyes, grin widening. “You’re too kind.”

He reaches down and pops the button on his pants, followed by the zipper, and slides his hand inside.

“…Talk to me.”

Nervous energy is still fluttering through Ben’s chest and he tries his best to channel it into something more effective—like dirty talk.

“I… yeah, okay.”

Klaus, sensing his embarrassment, continues. “Tell me what you like; what you want to do to me.”

Ben laughs. “…That’s a long list.”

“I’ve got time,” Klaus says, massaging his cock gently through his briefs.

The way he manages to simultaneously comfort and arouse Ben is truly a talent.

“Okay…” Ben tries again. “I… want to suck you off.”

“There you go,” Klaus breathes, tilting his head back.

The little bits of encouragement Klaus gives do miles more for Ben’s self-confidence than he could ever do on his own.

“I want to strip your pants off and lie between your legs. Want my head between your thighs.”

Klaus runs his free hand down and back up his thigh slowly before sliding it around to squeeze his ass.

“…I want to learn exactly how you like your cock sucked.”

“Goodness, Benjamin. You kiss our mother with that mouth?” Klaus chuckles, not quite hiding the way his breath has grown heavier.

Ben pushes on. “I’ve never sucked a dick before, so it would probably be pretty messy… Would you like that?”

Klaus gives his cock a firm squeeze and nods. “Fuck… Let me get out of these.”

He practically peels his pants back over his ass and down his thighs then shifts to kick them off his feet before climbing back onto his knees.

Ben gives him a second to adjust before continuing.

“You’d like my sloppy tongue? The spit running down my chin? Maybe a scrape of teeth?”

Klaus pushes his briefs halfway down his legs and spits into his palm, slowly starting to jerk himself off.

Ben takes a few moments just to stare. He’d been just as enraptured the other night, but the lighting hadn’t been anywhere near as good as it was now. The hazy sunlight through the window illuminates every inch of Klaus. The gorgeous pink flush that spreads from the head halfway down his cock makes Ben’s fingers twitch; nothing has made him miss his ability to touch more than Klaus’ body.

“I wanna fuck your mouth all sweet and gentle, Benny,” Klaus growls, “Teach you everything I know.”

And… wow. That sounds really fucking nice.

He’s working his hand up and down his cock in time with the deep, sultry beat of the music and Ben loses his train of thought.

After a few seconds of silence, a lazy smile drifts across Klaus’ face.

“You like that? I mean, to be honest, you’ve seen me suck enough cock that you could probably write a book on it.”

Ben snorts. “Yeah. An unsolicited sequel to Vanya’s: _Number Four: A Guide to Navigating Your Dead Brother’s Voyeurism_.”

Klaus throws him a saucy wink. “All press is good press.”

“And I have enough material for a goddamn anthology. I know all the… finer details of your interests.”

Klaus swallows hard.

“How you like to be touched… pulled, slapped, choked…” Ben lets a whine creep into his voice.

Klaus brings one hand up to tug and flick at a nipple.

“ _God_ , I’d let you do anything you want to me, you know that?”

The music thrums through Ben, slowly mixing with his arousal to create something so…  _human_ -feeling. Something  _alive_.

“…Have I ever told you how much I love your legs?” Ben asks. “Because I really do. I want to feel them—lick and kiss my way down them. I want to bite you, suck a hickey into your thigh, right under your cock. I want to mark you.”

The hand around Klaus’ cock moves with a little more urgency, now.

“ _Jesus_ , that’s right, Ben.”

Ben furls his hands into fists and pushes down on his knees.

“I want to be rough and hard and dirty with you,” he breathes. “But you… you’ll be so gentle with me, won’t you, Klaus? Go nice and slow with me… Such a good brother.”

Klaus whimpers, bucking his hips.

Ben isn’t quite sure what’s brought on this newfound confidence—the music, the lighting, the decades of pent up sexual frustration towards his brother—but Klaus is responding so positively that he doesn’t linger on it.

“Keep a hand in my hair while you fuck my mouth. Guide me—show me where to go, what to do. I need you, Klaus.” There’s a helplessness in his own voice that Ben monopolizes on, using it to coax all those sweet sounds from Klaus. “And when I learn, you can… you can press your cock right up against my throat.”

Klaus groans and tightens his fist.

“You think I’d choke?”

Ben is certainly familiar with the steady progression of skill needed to deepthroat someone, and naturally this came via Klaus, whose learning curve was especially steep.

“Would you push that deep into my mouth? Until I couldn’t breathe; until I was gagging on you?”

Klaus’ lip curls back. “You would take me so fucking good, Benny. Look at that mouth…”

He holds his hand up hardly an inch from Ben’s mouth and parts his own lips with a little, “Ahh,” prompting Ben to do the same.

He opens his mouth and the fingers of Klaus’ outstretched hand twitch before closing into a fist. Ben opens a little wider and presses his tongue to his bottom lip. It’s a strange sort of intimacy, being open in such an innocent way for someone.

“Your lips are fucking… perfect,” Klaus whines, dropping his hand. “If they were stretched around my cock, all… pink and fucking puffy and wet…” His voice drops to a growl.

Ben looks into Klaus’ eyes, his pupils blown with desire, and lifts a finger to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it.

Klaus grins, something alluring and fucking lethal, and leans closer.

“Yeah, baby, show me how you’d do it.”

His voice is hardly above a whisper but  _fuck_ , it sounds like… like velvet.

Ben shudders. He reopens his mouth and licks a slow line up the side of his finger. He can’t hold eye contact with Klaus for more than a few seconds so he lets his gaze roam across his torso down to his cock.

At this point, Klaus isn’t even touching himself anymore. Both hands are fisted in the sheets at his sides, white-knuckled. He spreads his legs a little wider for Ben, ever the show-off.

Ben flicks his tongue back and forth over the tip of his finger a few times then sucks it back into his mouth, bobbing slowly all the way down and back up like he’s seen Klaus do so many times.

Klaus lets out a muffled little moan, cock twitching between his legs.

“You’re a fucking natural, Benny,” Klaus whimpers.

Ben parts his lips and swirls his tongue around his finger, trying to express a fraction of the confidence Klaus does.

“This is really…” Klaus murmurs, voice cracking, “…not fair.”

Ben pulls his finger from his mouth slowly.

“…I want to fuck you.”

It comes out of his mouth before he can even think about it and his face probably shows as much, because Klaus laughs and leans onto his hands until they’re almost nose to nose. He studies Ben’s face with his eyes the way one might with their hands: along his cheekbones, his nose, then down his jaw to his lips and back up to his eyes.

“…How?”

The question makes Ben feel suddenly vulnerable. Up until now, he’s been able to work off his knowledge of what Klaus likes, but… this requires a more personal answer. There’s certainly no one way Klaus prefers to be fucked.

“I…” Ben chews the inside of his lip while he thinks. “I… want you on top,” he says slowly.

Klaus gives him an encouraging nod.

“…I want you to ride me.”

Something changes in Klaus’ eyes. Ben’s instinct is to call it dominance, but it’s more than that… It’s predatory. It’s a kind of hunger Ben has seen Klaus wear before with others, but at this proximity it makes him shiver.

“Yeah?” Klaus murmurs. “That sounds like heaven, Ben.”

He leans back a little.

“Can I stretch myself for you?”

Ben bites his lip and nods, words failing him.

Klaus grabs the lube from where he’s left it on his desk, never bothering to tuck it into a drawer. He squirts a bit into his palm and spreads it over two fingers, pumping his cock a few times with what’s left on his hand.

Ben has a perfect view of Klaus’ body when he shifts from his knees to his feet and reclines, resting on one elbow and letting the other hand slip down between his legs. Klaus’ knees fall open when he rubs over his entrance.

“Mm… Benny?”

Ben hesitantly tears his gaze away from the finger slowly circling Klaus’ hole to meet his gaze.

“Tell me what you think about,” he murmurs, dropping his head onto his shoulder. “When I’m asleep, or busy or whatever. Do you think about us?”

Ben swallows. “Yeah. All the time.”

Klaus’ contented smile looks like it would be better suited on the cover of a family living magazine than on someone about to finger fuck himself for his dead brother.

“Good. What do we do together?”

Helpfully, Ben immediately forgets ever erotic fantasy he’s ever had and has to spend several moments racking his brain.

“Um…”

“Sorry,” Klaus laughs, “I put you on the spot. How about… when I’m riding you. How does it happen?”

Ben closes his eyes.

“We’re… sitting on the couch downstairs,” he starts, “and you put your leg over me, straddle me. You start grinding down, getting me hard…”

Klaus gasps and Ben opens his eyes to see one finger already sunk in to the second knuckle. He starts pumping it slowly and all Ben’s attention is now occupied with the way his hole seems to suck him back in.

“Don’t stop,” Klaus whimpers.

Oh, right.

“…You grind against me and I kiss and suck along your neck. We’re both so hard and I just… need more. Need to be inside you.”

Klaus bites back a groan when he pushes in the second finger. He lets his head fall back, exposing his neck, the way his throat bobs when he swallows.

“You undo my pants and wrap a hand around my cock and your hand is so fucking warm, and you’re whispering, all hot, into my ear.”

He starts scissoring the fingers inside of him. His cock twitches where it rests against his stomach.

“What am I saying?” he asks. “That you’re such a good boy? So hard for me?”

The corner of Ben’s mouth quirks up. “Something like that.”

Klaus tilts his head back up. “…Or am I talking about how much I want it?”

The music fades out and a new tune begins, waltzing through the air like smoke.

“Am I begging for it? Telling you how I can’t fucking wait for you to be inside of me? To fill me up?”

Klaus presses in a third finger, curling his hips into it.

“Because that’s so true,” he breathes.

Ben clears his throat, then decides not to speak. He opts instead to watch Klaus’ fingers pump into his hole, over and over, and _God_ , it looks like it hurts, but the blissful serenity on Klaus’ face tells him differently.

Klaus whimpers, “I’ll take anything, Ben. Fingers, tongue, cock—I just want you to put  _something_  in—”

He suddenly sits bolt upright with wide eyes, momentarily frightening Ben.

“Shit,” he breathes, blinking. “Wait, shit, wait.”

Klaus stumbles off the bed and starts pulling open the drawers of his desk, frantically searching for something.

Ben tilts his head, confused but not concerned as he takes in the long expanse of Klaus’ back.

“Come on,” Klaus mumbles to himself. “Come to daddy. Where did I—ha!”

When Klaus turns back around, Ben nearly chokes.

In his hand is a large dildo, but that isn’t the part that catches Ben off guard—it’s the shape.

A tentacle.

“I—I haven’t seen that one before.”

Klaus pets it fondly, fingers stroking over the gently raised silicone suckers.

“Yeah, I was off my fucking head when I got it… Call it an impulse buy.”

Ben has to admit it’s quite pretty; a mottled sky blue that fades into a deep sapphire, about ten inches, with a very slight curve and a flared based. It’s certainly more pleasing to the eye than those grotesque, slimy things that burst out of his chest.

Klaus climbs up onto the bed with his back to Ben and dribbles some lube over the tentacle.

He kneels over it and reaches around, pressing the tip against his hole before pausing to ask, “May I?”

Ben laughs, more an expulsion of breath than an expression of humour.

“Please,” he answers.

Klaus bends forward just enough to give Ben a good view. While he steadies the tentacle with one hand, the other holds himself open, entirely exposed.

Ben bites his tongue and curls his fingers into the hem of his hoodie, the abstract buzz of arousal pulsing from his chest down to the tips of his toes.

Klaus moves deliberately slowly like he’s filming a fucking porno just for Ben, sultry music and all.

The slick tip of the tentacle presses in without resistance and Klaus takes his time sinking down the rest of the way. All the while, breathy, needy,  _beautiful_  little moans are spilling from his parted lips.

“And…” Klaus is panting by the time he’s taken in the full length. “…Ta-da!”

The way his hole is stretched open is  _obscene_  and Ben couldn’t take his eyes off it if he tried.

“Sh-shit, Klaus. That’s so fucking hot.”

Klaus blows a kiss over his shoulder. He sits still for a few more moments before starting to grind in little circles, the tentacle shifting within him. 

A steady stream of, _“Yeah, yeah, yeah,”_  comes through gritted teeth.

Distantly, Ben remembers that he’s supposed to be playing a more active role in this activity and clears his throat.

“How does it f—uh… How do I feel?”

By no means is this a typical sexual encounter, so Ben forgives himself for feeling awkward about the bizarre self-insertion.

“Wunderbar, Benny,” Klaus sighs, no note of discomfort in his voice.

He braces his hands against the headboard and lifts himself up, clenching around the tentacle, then sinks back down. Ben watches as he works into a steady rhythm.

“Turn around,” he says suddenly, “I want to see your face.”

Klaus, panting, pulls off of the tentacle and shuffles around before sinking back down with a yelp. The shift in orientation has the silicone ridges rubbing up against Klaus’ prostate and his cock twitches violently.

“J-Jesus, Ben, that’s the spot.”

Hearing his name come from Klaus’ lips strikes him just as viscerally as it had the other night during his dream.

His tongue peeks out of his mouth when he starts rocking back and forth, bed creaking faintly with the movement. Klaus gives Ben a sideways look, smile creeping onto his face.

“Do you think yours would feel this good? Think they’d want to fuck me?”

It takes a moment to click.

Klaus has made offhand comments about the tentacles before but never anything serious… As far as Ben knows. He suddenly can’t help thinking back over every nonchalant innuendo Klaus has thrown at him over the last decade.

Klaus drags himself up and down the tentacle slowly, cock bobbing with each movement.

When Ben actually stops to think about it, about the way they used to react when he jerked himself off—‘enthusiastically’, would be a word—he wouldn’t be surprised if they welcomed a sweaty, needy Klaus with open tentacles. But then again, the creature within him exists to wreak havoc, so its primal urges may be a little different from Ben’s.

He breathes, “…I could make them want it.”

Klaus’ grin is a little lopsided.

“Can you imagine the old man’s reaction? Years of tireless whip-cracking and drilling you on how to control those things, just to have you turn around and use your talent to fuck your little slut of a brother.” He laughs breathlessly. “I’d pay to see his face.”

Ben smirks. “Using my power to manifest another being for sexual purposes? Gee, that sounds kind of familiar.”

Klaus sinks down especially low and gasps, but still manages to conjure faux-offence on his face.

“I’ll have you know that my dear baby brother is more than a sex object to me.”

“We’re exactly the same age, dumbass.”

Klaus raises his eyebrows. “Really? Last time I checked, you’re perpetually seventeen and I’m almost thirty.”

“So you’re engaging in a sexual act with a minor.”

“Oh, shut up!” Klaus pouts, “You know I’m not smart enough to win this argument. At least, not with my brain. My body…”

Klaus wraps a dainty hand around the base of his flushed cock and rolls his hips, pushing the tentacle in deeper.

“…that could still be a game changer.”

And  _fuck,_  if he isn’t right.

“Yeah,” Ben mutters. His eyes are trained on the pre-come dribbling from Klaus’ cock. “Yeah, I’ll let you have this one.”

Looking pleased with himself, Klaus spreads his thighs a little farther apart.

Ben watches him fuck himself back on the tentacle, again and again, and a powerful urge strikes for him to do something he’s never really done before— _moan_.

Of course he’d jerked off when he was alive, but he was and still is a fundamentally shy person, and tried to keep his bedtime antics as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing he needed was their outraged father barging into his room in the middle of the night. That meant no noise—nothing above a sigh, at least.

So Ben focuses on Klaus, on the pout of his lips and the flex of his thighs, and when he opens his mouth, all his stifled desire, everything he feels and has felt for Klaus, funnels into a low, desperate sound that Ben doesn’t even recognize.

Klaus draws in a sharp breath and looks right at Ben.

“Holy shit,  _do that again._ ”

He does, this time shaping the sound into Klaus’ name.

A violent shudder wracks Klaus’ entire body and he licks his lips.

“ _Christ_ , Ben. What have you been saving that one for?”

Advertently or not, Klaus always gives the best confidence-boosters.

“…You,” Ben murmurs, even though he knows Klaus hadn’t been expecting a response. “Alone. Just you.”

Klaus frowns. “Wh—”

“Nobody fucking you. Nobody getting fucked by you. Just me and you, alone.” Ben manages to hold eye contact throughout. “…That’s what I was saving it for.”

Something flashes across Klaus’ face almost too briefly to notice.

“…You want me to come just for you?” he asks.

Ben looks away and nods.

Klaus leans forward and murmurs, “I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’ve come for you more fucking times than I can count.”

Ben frowns, but the way his stomach drops is impossible to ignore.

Klaus bites his lip and rolls his hips, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mm… In fairness, I usually have a little help. Hands, mouths, whatever; it’s not like yours are available.”

And suddenly Ben gets it. All those hook-ups… Klaus would sometimes cast him a sideways glance…

He can’t guess how long it’s been happening—months? years?—but the fact that it’s happening at all opens up something new within Ben.

“You think about me when you’re getting sucked off?”

“Mhm.” Klaus nods, eyes still shut.

“And… when you’re getting fucked?”

Klaus grins. “It’s a goddamn miracle I haven’t accidentally screamed your name yet.”

“Shit,” Ben groans, “Do you imagine that it’s me?”

“Sometimes.” Klaus licks his lips, voice thick. “But usually just knowing you’re there is enough.”

He rocks quicker now. While one hand steadies himself against the mattress, the other plays with a nipple.

Ben leans close enough that he could kiss Klaus, would the laws of nature permit it, and murmurs, “You like it when I watch other people fuck you?”

It’s more rhetorical than anything else; Ben knows the answer.

“Fuck yes, I fucking do,” he whimpers.

“You like to show off for me?”

Klaus nods and gasps, fingers curling into the bedsheets.

“Fuck, you’d be great as a sex hotline worker,” he moans between gritted teeth, “ _God_ , you’d make so much money.”

Ben chuckles. “I know you, Klaus—what you like. There’s no way I could do this with anybody else.”

Klaus huffs, “Ye of little faith.”

“…Alright,” Ben says, watching Klaus carefully. “Then I don’t  _want_  to do this with anybody else. Better?”

Klaus stops moving. He studies Ben for a moment.

“…I don’t know if that was supposed to sound more lovey-dovey or hot and possessive, but I will gladly take both.”

Ben grins. “Keep moving.”

If he’d have blinked, he would’ve missed the way Klaus’ eyebrow quirked.

“…Yes sir.”

Oh.

The little flutter Ben feels in his chest at those words is… new. He mentally files that little tidbit of information away and returns to the task at hand.

“I see you looking at me, sometimes,” Ben murmurs, “When they’re fucking you and it’s… it’s not  _quite_  enough for you.”

Klaus has already returned to his previous pace, eyes drifting shut as he listens to Ben.

“You need something else, something that’ll push you over the edge.”

Ben knows he’s testing a boundary here, but the buzz is spreading to his head and his thought-processing is a little slower than usual.

“So you look up and see your brother watching you get ruined—“

He’s interrupted by a whimper.

“—and that  _really_  gets you off. Am I right?”

The bed is jolting with the force of Klaus’ movements but Ben keeps a calm, questioning face.

“Am I right?”

Klaus gasps, shoulders hunched nearly to his ears. He nods.

“…And how does your brother look at you?”

“He…” Klaus pants, “…he looks at me like he’s fucking starving. Like he wants me all to himself, more than he wants anything.”

He drags his tongue over his lower lip, meeting Ben’s eyes.

“…And I’ll fucking give it to him. Give him everything he wants.”

He wraps a hand around his cock and starts jerking himself off.

“Come on me, Klaus,” Ben whimpers, shuffling closer.

Klaus curses and bites his lip, nodding furiously. He grinds down on the tentacle and works himself, concentration taking over his features as he chases his orgasm.

“Shit,  _shit_.”

Klaus comes, spurting onto what would be Ben’s chest with a desperate groan.

A pathetic little moan warbles out of Ben’s throat as he takes everything in.

“Yes, fuck, Ben, baby,  _so good_ ,” Klaus babbles, fucking up into his fist.

After a few moments of laboured breathing while he comes down, Klaus slides off the tentacle with a hiss and flops forward, barely missing Ben.

“Why haven’t we been doing this for the last  _decade?_ ” he whines into the mattress.

That’s a really good question.

Klaus hauls himself onto his side and studies Ben’s face. There’s something in his eyes… something  _deep_ , reaching right to Ben’s core. The look is almost too serious, too sober for Klaus’ face, and Ben isn’t sure if he’s ready for what might be coming next.

“…You think I could be a ghost doctor?” Klaus asks, apropos of nothing.

Ben blinks. “I… what?”

That isn’t what he’d been expecting. Then again, when is anything Klaus says?

“I just want to know how this… works.” He gestures vaguely at Ben. “You can sit and walk and talk, but,” Klaus holds up his fingers to start counting, “no food, no sleep, no  _boner_.”

He sticks his hand straight through Ben’s pelvis with a pained sound.

“Benny, baby. Why not?”

Ben shrugs. “I always kind of figured… no blood, no boner, right?”

Klaus pouts, sticking out an exaggerated, wobbly lip, and Ben laughs.

“Honestly, I’ve made my peace with it. I don’t really feel the need to get off, anyway. You’re enough, Klaus.”

Klaus looks mildly offended. “Just  _enough?_ ”

Ben snorts. He hops off the bed and gestures to the spots of come that had shot straight through his chest and are now seeping into the bedsheets.

“Clean up after yourself, hm?”

Klaus sticks his tongue out, looking like he has no intention of doing anything of the sort.

Music is still crooning from the corner, maintaining a comfortable atmosphere that makes Ben want to curl up next to Klaus and fall asleep.

Instead, he walks over to the seat he usually occupies while Klaus sleeps. But before he can settle in, something out in the hallway catches his eye. The afternoon sun is glinting off of polished metal…

“Uh…” Ben takes a step closer. “…What did Diego say his missing knife looked like again?”

“Hm?” Klaus grunts, already starting to nod off.

He cranes his neck to see where Ben is pointing and squints, then breaks into hysterical laughter.

Diego’s knife is stuck into the wooden beam across the hall from Klaus’ open door with a note pinned under it. Ben doesn’t need to get any closer to read the words scrawled in thick, black letters.

_CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR_.            


End file.
